


The Sun Ariseth

by PetrichorPerfume



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Body Worship, Coming Untouched, Ineffable Idiots (Good Omens), Light Dom/sub, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Praise Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-02
Updated: 2019-07-02
Packaged: 2020-06-03 01:41:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19453741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PetrichorPerfume/pseuds/PetrichorPerfume
Summary: In which Crowley has a praise kink and Aziraphale is more than happy to indulge him.





	The Sun Ariseth

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I confess; I was writing Good Omens porn all night and all day. I only took a break to read some kinky A/C loving.

It was in the nature of things to spiral out of control as quickly as possible – it was a constant of life, and there was no escaping it. Aziraphale had a perfectly logical explanation for this; it was, of course, the Law of Entropy, which God in Her infinite wisdom had created. Physicists and other intellectual types called it the Second Law of Thermodynamics, and Aziraphale, upon first reading that, had been quite pleased it was nestled in the middle, right between the First and Third laws, until he had discovered there was a fourth, ‘Zeroth’ law. He often chose to ignore the existence of that law. Most good things came in threes, after all.

Aziraphale had rather expected that, at the current rate of entropic decay in the universe, he and Crowley would find love in one another sometime between the first and second centuries BC. He’d been wrong, and had spent most of the next two thousand years wondering where he’d went wrong. Perhaps, he had figured, about a millennium after Crowley would have confessed his love to him, in a perfect cosmos, there was no use holding the demon so close to his heart if his affections would never be returned.

Then the Apocalypse came and went, and the world kept turning and the forces of Heaven and Hell continued to quietly hate one another. Somewhere between Crowley’s talk of having their own side – “ _our_ side,” he’d called it – and saving the world, he figured out that there had been a variable he’d left unaccounted for, in his previous calculations, and that was none other than the incredible capacity for two idiots in love to fail to do anything about it.

So Aziraphale, needing to be the bigger celestial entity, had confessed his love to Crowley over tea one rainy afternoon. Six thousand years of pent-up tension ignited all at once, and they didn’t leave the bed – it had been Aziraphale’s, but it was _theirs_ , now – for a week.

That had been two month ago, and a prodigious amount of sex later. They’d spent centuries wining and dining one another, and they’d had to make up for lost time somehow.

However, Crowley had been flighty as of late, and Aziraphale had sat him down and asked him to tell him everything.

And that’s how they got right here. Crowley had gone very silent after admitting he wanted kinkier sex, and Aziraphale had gone very still as he imagined all the lurid things Crowley would want to do to him.

“I’m an angel,” Aziraphale protested, mind’s eye already running through a litany of whips and chains and other strange contraptions.

“ _No_ ,” Crowley said, feigning disbelief. “That has completely escaped me for the past six thousand years.”

Aziraphale course-corrected. A sarcastic Crowley was not a fun Crowley. “Darling,” he tried, taking the shiver that visibly ran up Crowley’s spine at the word. “I’m sure we can work something out.”

But Crowley just scowled. “Forget it,” he said, as if that were the end of the conversation, though Aziraphale was far from done.

“My sweet demon,” Aziraphale sighed, “You know I would do quite nearly anything for you, so please... Just talk to me.”

Crowley’s next words came out in a rush of syllables that even Aziraphale, with his millennia of practice at understanding Crowley-speak, had trouble making out.

“I’m sorry, could you repeat that?”

“See? I knew you wouldn’t want to do it – forget I asked – forget everything!” Scowling, Crowley stood and began to pace the room. “I’m a demon; you’re an angel – it would never work.”

  
“I didn’t _hear_ you, Crowley,” Aziraphale huffed out, patience wearing thin.

“I said,” Crowley began, and said something that sounded like “Iwanttobepraised,” but it was spoken so fast that Aziraphale could only make out the first few words.

“You want _what_?”

It was only when Crowley turned to him that he realized the other was on the verge of tears. “I want to be praised,” Crowley admitted, slowly, spitting out every word like it tasted bitter. “By you. I always have – I want – I want to feel worthy, like I’m someone you admire and not just some demon you’re stuck with for the rest of eternity.”

Aziraphale took a step back. “Have I loved you so poorly you think you’re unworthy?” He rushed forward and gathered Crowley in his arms. “If I didn’t know better, I would say the sun rose each day because of your presence –”

“Not here,” Crowley hissed, looking every which way as if to see if someone were listening.

“Bedroom?” Aziraphale suggested, holding out his hand in offering.

Crowley just frowned harder, ripped himself from Aziraphale’s embrace, and folded his arms like a petulant child.

“I see how this is going to be,” Aziraphale purred, sidling up to Crowley. “I’m going to need to... Seduce you,” he said, liking the taste of the words in his mouth. Crowley brightened up considerably at the notion, so Aziraphale took that as a cue to continue. “Have I ever told you how much I love you? Because I really, really do.”

“Oh?” Crowley asked, sounding very small. It took Aziraphale a moment to process the fact that he was entirely in control, now, that Crowley was looking at him like he had the power to make stars shine, and he silently prayed he wouldn’t fuck this up.

“Oh, so very, very much. When you came to me on the walls of the garden... I knew it was destined to be us. You looked so beautiful, then, and though you had just tempted Eve, it was I who felt fallen – like I was falling. For you.”

“Bedroom?” Crowley asked, suddenly interrupting him.

Aziraphale smiled a small, secret smile – the one he reserved for Crowley alone. “Of course, dear,” he said, and guided Crowley there, hand at the small of the demon’s back because that felt right, and then, when they finally arrived at the bedroom after what felt like a small eternity, he laid Crowley out like a painting, backing him onto the duvet and closing his eyes with one hand, then curling the other’s hands around the bedposts, because that felt right, too. He whispered, “Now be a good boy for me, and keep your eyes closed and your hands right where I put them, okay?”

And Crowley’s reaction was beautiful – his back arched all the way up off the bed, sending his hips ricocheting towards Aziraphale’s, and it was only then that the angel realized how hard his demon had become. Crowley made a wordless sound of want at the contact, and thrust hard against his lover’s body.

Aziraphale tsked, and Crowley deflated. “Shh, you’re being so good for me,” the angel cooed. “You are always so good for me, always so perfect,” he said, tracing a line along Crowley’s jaw, thumb moving to rest against the demon’s lower lip. “So beautiful.”

The demon brought his elbows together, obscuring his face, hiding himself from Aziraphale’s view, but the angel ever-so-gently pried away the offending limbs. “None of that,” he admonished. “You wanted to be praised, so let me praise you. Let me _worship_ you.”

  
Crowley whined low in his throat, breath coming quicker with every exhalation. “Please,” he whispered.

“Yes, my darling?”

“Touch me,” the demon begged. “I need-”

“Shh,” Aziraphale soothed. “Let’s take this slow. If I’m going to do this, I’m going to do it properly. Strip you down; praise each and every inch of you – let you know which parts I love best and which taste sweet and which taste of salt.”

At that, Crowley made a low, slow keening sound, and Aziraphale took that opportunity to press his lips to the demon’s throat, just to feel the vibrations, and the unsteady rise and fall of his breathing. “I love you,” he whispered. He moved his lips to press in the hollow formed by Crowley’s collarbones, and repeated it, “I love you; I love you; I love you,” like a mantra, all across his lover’s chest and neck until he felt he had sufficiently worshiped every spare inch of bare skin.

Once he was satisfied, he undid one button of Crowley’s shirt, then another, and another – just enough to reveal the demon’s nipples. “And these...” He crooned, taking one in between two of his fingers and rolling it ever so slightly, eliciting another needy noise from beneath him, “Are ever so-sensitive, and so, so responsive to my touch. And...” He wasn’t sure if he was about to go too far, but he said anyway, “I love them, because they are part of you, and I love every part of you. No matter how small.”

Crowley’s back arched again, and he started to pant. Aziraphale wondered aloud, “Do you think you can come like this? Just from my words and a few simple touches?” He tugged on Crowley’s nipple, just hard enough to hurt, and then leant down to kiss it better.

“Yes,” Crowley hissed. “I’m-” He hiccupped. “I’m close.”

Aziraphale smiled to himself, and said, “I love you,” again, because he could think of no better words to offer his beloved at the moment, other than that simple, profound truth. “I love you more than the plentitude of stars in the sky, and I would gladly stay here in this bed and praise you and worship at your feet from when the sun ariseth to when it sets; I have loved you from the beginning and I will love you until the end.”

Crowley’s eyes were open, but Aziraphale didn’t have the heart to admonish him because he was looking at him like he had created the world, and made the seas and set the stars in the firmament, like he’d just come down from Heaven, like he was the holiest of the holy host.

And Aziraphale couldn’t help it; he crashed their lips together, and they kissed, desperate and deep and by the end of it, Crowley was rutting against him, clinging to him like he was the last bit of detritus in a flooded world, softly moaning his name in a voice so sweet it could put honey to shame.

“Come for me, beloved,” Aziraphale coaxed, part of him wondering if it were possible for the other to do so, but the rest of him convinced that if his words had had such an effect on Crowley, surely his demon would be able to reach competition from his voice alone.

It worked, and suddenly, Crowley’s fingers were scrabbling at his back, and the other’s head was falling back and his spine was once more arching off the bed, a perfect arc of desire.

“So beautiful,” Aziraphale breathed, knowing he’d just borne witness to something holy. Something in the air had changed between them; something had flared and reached its peak, and whatever had been blossoming between them for the past six thousand years had come full circle.

“That was... That was...” Crowley seemed to be rendered speechless for the first time in his long life, and Aziraphale smiled.

“If ever you want something, love, you need only ask,” Aziraphale said, voice soft.

Crowley nodded vigorously. “I want you inside me, right about now,” he said, suddenly coyer than Aziraphale had ever seen him.

The angel grinned. “I’m sure that can be arranged.”

And so the night went, an angel and his demon making love long past the midnight hour, Aziraphale assuring his Crowley of his beauty and his worth and ensuring that above all else, the other knew he was loved.


End file.
